


In Blue

by flootiger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, High School, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootiger/pseuds/flootiger
Summary: Bucky is a rich fuck up and wants to escape his life of neglect and liquor. A mysterious boy in blue offers him adventure and he decides to take it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	In Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toe into the Marvel world with this…. this fandom is all new to me (I know, I know where I have I been for 12 years). Anyway, I found the gay and here I am. 
> 
> I have plagiarised myself with this one as I wrote this years ago for my OG fandom and then thought it would be fun to try it with Steve/Bucky. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and if you have any fic recommendations/would like to make friends hmu as I am legit BRAND NEW and know naaathing. Treat me like Steve waking up in 2011!!

A breeze picked up on the beach. Around him, the wind snatched up the laughter and drunk shouts of his friends and scattered them far away over the ocean waves. The fire crackled and Bucky swung the neck of a small bottle of vodka between a thumb and two fingers, idly wondering if he should discard it into the flame.

Deciding it would cause a bit of up-cry, he did, raising his arm and lobbing the almost empty glass in a spinning ark. With a crack like a whip and a roar of alcohol-fuelled flame the arms of the fire shot up into the sky, sparks exploding against the night.

A girl shrieked and Bucky’s lip curled in satisfaction.

Then the party continued and Bucky’s eyes turned dull as he watched the last of his trick die amidst the fire.

It was getting cold now and he shivered. Part of him relished how his body convulsed in the chill, the dead feeling that rotted his insides momentarily forgotten as his mind was forced to pay attention, forced to give a fuck. Bucky had stopped giving a fuck a long time ago. Left at a young age to explore the eaves of his parent’s mansion while they jetted off to rule from distant skyscrapers and recline in faraway luxury, he’d grown bored by the age of thirteen, discovered his mother’s liquor stash at fourteen and become a vagrant in his own home by fifteen, traipsing around in search of thrills he knew didn’t exist. Now here he sat, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, alone, empty, with endless years stretched before him he already didn’t want to fill.

His friends were all rich bitches like him, somehow they’d pooled together in opulent hangouts and glittering shells, blowing their trust funds on spirits and white powder. They were elite, they were notorious, they were fuck ups.

“You got another smoke?”

Bucky lifted his eyes to see Natasha swaying before him. The redhead looked waif-like, her thin waist cinched tight in a tiny leather dress and dark circles were daubed under her eyes, bruised from too many late nights and not enough parental intervention.

“Sure,” Bucky dug into his back pocket and handed over a pack. “Keep them.”

Natasha gave him a bleary smile, plucking one from the packet with shaking fingers. Bucky watched disinterestedly as Natasha fumbled with the lighter, clicking it twice before the end of the cigarette burned orange against the darkness that cloaked them. Her cheeks hollowed as she inhaled, sucking on the end like a lifeline. Then she reached into the pocket of her jeans, extracting a small baggy and holding it out between two fingers to Bucky.

“You want?”

Bucky eyed the crushed white powder that sat in the bottom of the bag. He could, but he didn’t want to tonight. He didn’t know what Natasha was offering and Bucky was apathetically riding the buzz of his vodka, mellowing out enough to not want the sharp sting of cocaine flooding his system or the dopey feeling anything else might bring.

“No,” he told the redhead, looking away and into the flames once more.

Natasha didn’t reply and a moment later Bucky heard her stumble across the sand, a couple of their girlfriends cooing over the packet of cigarettes she’d returned with.

Bucky had had enough. He needed out, he needed to leave the beach and go... go.

But Bucky had nowhere to go, not really. He had a credit card in his back pocket loaded with thousands, a lighter, and nothing else. It made him feel detached, independent. Which was a fucking joke as he’d never earned a penny of that money himself.

A few of the crowd called his name as he departed, trudging unsteadily over the sand and hugging his jacket like a thin shield against the nip of midnight chill. Stark hollered something about his fine ass and Bucky threw him the finger over his shoulder. The older man was a sleaze, still riding his own parent’s fortune and choosing to hang out with Bucky’s crowd instead of people his own age. The others tolerated him because he had _connections_ but Bucky hated him because every time he saw the other man he was forced to dredge up dark memories of hot pain and the red blood of his surrendered virginity. He’d been young, pretty and naive, fucked on his first pill and eager for the hands of someone else on him, desperate to ease the fervent heat that licked at his insides as he’d ridden the high. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to convince Bucky to ride something else, just a few sweet words of flattery and suggestive kisses.

Bucky sighed, his breath tumbling out like smoke.

At his back, the calls faded into the night as Bucky left the party behind, wanting to forget Stark, wanting to forget them all.

“Fuck them,” he muttered darkly.

The beach sloped up and Bucky went with it until he crested the dune. For a moment he paused, trying to find it in him to admire the undulating mounds of sand that he knew stretched far beyond what the moonlight revealed. It was no good, for a brief moment he closed his eyes and stood, swaying in the wind and wishing for a miracle.

The skin on the back of his neck prickled and he opened his eyes slowly. Nothing had changed.

Silently, he turned, heading down the dune and into the car park that lay on the other side. When he had been very, very small he’d come here with their housekeeper. Instead of the eerie silver that painted the landscape it had been bathed entirely in gold, the sun’s rays reaching out to caress the beach and all its happy revellers.

Bucky circled the car park. He’d hitched a ride with Natasha and Carter and they were still back on the beach. Bucky didn’t care, he’d walk.

Just as he reached the entrance to the lot something caught his attention and he looked up. A noise, indeterminable, had notified him of someone else’s presence.

Another boy was leaning against the fence right by the gate, a motorbike gleaming in the moonlight before him and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Dark eyes bored into Bucky and he stared back blankly. The boy was dressed all in blue. 

“I’ve seen you before,” he finally said.

The boy lifted the corner of his mouth and smirked at Bucky. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Yep.”

“I’m Steve.”

They stood in silence for several moments, the end of Steve’s cigarette glowing bright with each inhalation. Bucky recognised the boy from school, when he deigned to attend. As far as he could recall the boy was new, and wasn’t going to be around for long. Whatever the fuck that meant.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, giving his cigarette a quick flick to rid the end of ash.

Bucky watched the grey flecks float away on the light wind, then returned his attention to Steve again.

“Party,” he replied vaguely. “It was... whatever.”

“You leaving already?”

Bucky nodded.

“You have somewhere to be?”

He shook his head.

Steve propelled himself from the fence, his feet crunching on gravel and sand as he sidled over to Bucky, stopping a few feet away. Bucky wondered if he wanted a fuck.

“You want a ride?”

Bucky blinked. Around them the night was silent and something about the way Steve was looking at him made Bucky shiver.

“Where are you going?” Bucky searched Steve’s eyes, not really sure what he was looking for. Bucky didn’t give a fuck where Steve was going.

“I’m leaving,” Steve said.

“This place?” Both of Bucky’s eyebrows rose, unable to help the mild interest that crept into his voice. Steve was handsome and mysterious, Bucky was not immune.

“Yeah,” Steve gave him a crooked smile and stepped closer. “For good.”

Bucky lifted one eyebrow this time, regarding the strange, pretty boy. “Yeah okay.”

Steve tilted his head questioningly and dropped his cigarette. Bucky eyed it and then moved closer to the other boy, grinding his heel deliberately into the butt until it was no longer burning.

“I want a ride.”

Bucky watched, unmoving as Steve closed the final space between them and stood before him, curiously reaching one hand to brush aside the unkempt waves that fell over Bucky’s forehead. He let himself be touched, gently appraised, and closed his eyes when a scratchy kiss was placed over his lips. It didn’t surprise Bucky, people often kissed him. What did surprise him was an unexpected jolt that tugged at his naval.

The broke apart and Bucky’s dark eyes held Steve’s steadily.

“I’m a fuck up.”

Steve’s lip curled into a grin. “So am I.”

Bucky smiled. They climbed onto Steve’s motorbike, the engine revving loudly and splitting open the silence of the night. Cold hands gripped Steve’s jacket as they rode and Bucky laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If I got any tags or anything wrong let me know. Next time I'll try canon, I don't usually foray into AU...


End file.
